Picture Perfect
by RikaChieko
Summary: That picture and those necklaces are the last things Arthur has left of the one person who had ever made him whole.   Warning!  Lots of OOC, totally yaoi, all that good stuff man.
1. Chapter 1

Hallo there, it's Rika, back from the dead, posting the first chapter of her latest, and in my opinion, my greatest writing yet. I really hope you like this one. It was based on a real event! But yeah. I'm sorry for not posting in a few weeks. My netbook, where I write, was infected with a virus, and I could not access the internet. I promise that this one, which in total, should be over 15,000 words (this is the shortest chapter), will be posted, one update a week over 3 weeks. In the next two weeks, I should have a new one shot up and the last and long procrastinated final chapter of Charleston Chew. Read, and review, Hetalia does not belong to me, the views and opinions here belong to me and my twisted mind alone-

Alfred: Shut the hell up and get on with the hero-tastic story!

Arthur: *smacks Alfred* Don't be rude!

Anywayz. BoyxBoy, and that's all. Enjoy!

**A Picture and a Heart:**

Somewhere in London, a very frustrated Brit slammed his fist against the redwood desktop, disrupting the silence in his quiet, lonely office. He'd been trying as hard he possibly could to try and finish the mile-high stack of paperwork his boss had given him earlier that day, but a person could do monotonous things for so long before snapping. Although Arthur could usually work well through the night and into the morning, today his patience had begun to wear thin before half the day was over, and that his mind kept wandering through his most painful memories, prodding at his most recent wounds and prying old ones open once again, didn't help him in the least.

"I CAN'T DO THIS!" He finally screamed, voice echoing throughout his empty home as if trying to taunt him. Hearing the echo come back to him, sounding just like it had many, many years to the day ago, so broken, so weak, and so frustrated with himself, Arthur snapped and Tears blurred his vision. They fell one at time from his bowed head and on to the papers he had worked so hard on, leaving large stains.

Arthur watched as the letters that he had written in such agonizingly neat penmanship began to bleed, leaving little streams of ink down the paper. There was no way he could give such a mess to his boss. He had rendered his hours of hard work useless. Completely fed up with offending inanimate objects, Arthur cleared his desk with a mighty sweep of his arm. Pens, pencils, books, a favored desktop lamp, and various other items one might find on a desk belonging to an excessively organized man clattered to the floor as the ruined papers fluttered down to join them.

Arthur backed away from the mess, wondering how he'd lost control so easily, how he'd fallen so far from the person who he had been. Cool it with the contractions. They're unprofessional. Arthur sat down numbly, and though he did not sob, fat tears continued to stream from his eyes and pattering onto the floor. Or some variation of the like. When he turned his head and looked at the chaos at the foot of his desk he spotted his calendar lying open on floor. His eyes were immediately drawn to the date he had circled in both red and blue…of course, red _and_ blue, but no white, because today was the 4th of July, of all days.

But it wasn't as if Arthur hadn't known that; in fact he knew all too well that today was his former lover and colony's birthday. He also knew full well that said man was all the way across the ocean and would be just finishing serving a disgustingly enormous arrangement of barbequed foods as a late lunch in his North Carolina home where he held his annual party with the other nations. Arthur couldn't help but to chuckle though his tears as he drew an image of the boisterous blonde (who he had once called his) on the inside eyelids. The sketch faithfully depicted Alfred's vivaciousness; in Arthur's he was animatedly explaining how he loved North Carolina because they were the Tar Heel state and because they had been the unwilling heroes of the south during his Civil War, but it couldn't capture half of the brilliance in his smile. Nothing could.

Except one thing, the thought of which caused Arthur to leap to his feet and scan his desktop with a sudden urgency, eyes widening and jaw dropping when he remembered that he had just rendered it completely bare. Arthur dropped to his knees in a panic and began fumble through the disarray he had created on the floor. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief when his hands ran over the smooth, familiar surface of the only picture frame he had ever kept on his desk, and he ran his hand over its back as he had nearly every day since he'd turned it face down. He had long since found that he didn't quite have strength to burn the bloody thing as he probably should have.

With trembling hands, Arthur picked the frame up. Alfred had given to him on his birthday several years ago and although the frame may have been somewhat old the picture in it was quite recent, seeing as Arthur had refused to use it until he'd captured the most perfect of all picture perfect moments to put in it. He had done just that exactly one year ago to the day, at Alfred's last birthday party.

The magnificent frame was put to shame by the beauty of the snapshot of Alfred. He was smiling as he made the victory 'V' with one hand. He held a sparkler in the other and his baby blues seemed to glow as he gazed upward at the exploding fireworks display. Arthur had been lucky enough to turn, his camera ready and waiting in hand, as the first few fireworks squealed loudly through the night sky. Just as Arthur had snapped the picture, a pair of fireworks from somewhere in the distance exploded behind Alfred, creating a truly perfect picture of his ex-lover and the only true replication of that smile.

To see Alfred looking so absolutely breathtaking felt like a punch in Arthur's gut. How he longed to see Alfred look at him with those love in those iridescent blue once more, to hear his voice telling him how much loved him again and again (and again) as they made love. When Arthur crossed trembling arms over his stomach he wished more than anything that it was Alfred holding him, but none of those things were going to happen, and Arthur knew it. He knew that he'd lost _that_, lost _Alfred, _forever, and that it was entirely his fault.

Clutching the picture in one hand, Arthur forced himself onto his feet and towards the door, stumbling as he went. He dragged himself his down the hall and into his room, struggling to his reach his goal of the bed.

Eventually, he succeeded and managed to throw himself down on the mattress. He stared at the picture and tried to make himself that he was back in that scene paused beneath the glass. The moment after Alfred had caught him taking the picture he had pulled Arthur to his chest with those strong, tan arms…Arthur was jolted from his imagination when was then he saw a long, spindly crack running from the upper right corner of the frame and across Alfred's chest, passing right over his heart.

"M-my… frame…" he whispered. "I-its broken…" Arthur clutched he cracked frame tightly to his chest; after all, it was what he had left of that Alfred who had loved him with all his heart and whom he loved just the same. That fragment of paused time, the captured light of Alfred's smile…it was what kept Arthur alive, kept him at company through the seemingly endless lonely nights and days he suffered.

Although it had been more than six months since Alfred had left him, to Arthur it seemed a decade, and as he lay crumpled around the precious shattered picture frame, he couldn't stop himself from remembering that day.

_Although Arthur huffed quietly when he heard the doorbell ring and wondered who the hell felt the need to drop by unannounced whilst he was smack-dap in the middle of the best part of his book, he allowed the more gentlemanly side of him to shine through and called, "Coming!" as he ran down the stairs and into dimly lit hallway that lead to his front door. _

"_Hello?" He said so as if he was asking a question as he opened the door. He smiled brightly when found a soaking wet Alfred standing in his door way. Though Arthur complained about it all the time, he secretly loved when his lover dropped his home unexpected and wanting to spend the week or the weekend, whichever came first, there with him. _

_He looked for Alfred's bag on his stoop, wanting to grab it for him and escort him inside and out of the freezing rain which pounded relentlessly on his roof and his America, and was surprised and slightly alarmed when the obnoxious stars-and-stripes duffel bag was nowhere to be seen. _

"_Hey…" Alfred greeted him, shifting uncomfortably as Arthur turned his attention back to him. _

_Arthur looked up into Alfred's eyes. They were a dazzling blue even in the dreary darkness of the storm but Arthur could tell that Alfred was worried by the way his gaze softened when their eyes met. However, there was something off about the way the American looked at him then. It reminded him of the last time they'd made love, when he had gazed up into Alfred's eyes just as he was about to penetrate him that last time and seen a man who longed to be somewhere else, someone who was trapped and therefore not his lover._

_The thought that perhaps Alfred had fallen out of love with him crossed his mind, but he didn't want to believe it and chose to pretend that it couldn't be, wouldn't be, wasn't, possible. _

"_What's up, Alfie?" asked Arthur, folding his arms across his chest as he shivered, whether from the brief flash of pain that flickered across the American's face or the icy rain he would never be sure. _

"_No, I'm not going to war Arthur." It was Arthur's turn to display the briefest moment of pain on his face. Alfred had used his real name, something he never did. "But I want to talk to you…" Alfred took a sudden interest in Arthur's welcome mat. _

"_Alright," said Arthur, not wanting to believe that he knew where this was going. "Come inside and we can talk. You'll catch a cold if you stay out here for too much longer." Arthur stepped to the side, offering his home to Alfred._

"_No." Alfred answered too quickly, bringing his eyes up to look into Arthur's. "It would be better if we talked out here." Arthur pretended once again not notice the pleading look Alfred was giving him that seem to beg him not to make this harder than it already was. _

"_But-!" _

"_Please." Alfred cut Arthur off firmly, a determined look set deep in his eyes. Almost unconsciously Arthur grabbed the steam punk locket he wore under his clothes, wondering if Alfred was wearing the other half of the set he'd bought for the two of them. _

_It took all Arthur had to close the door, and he still hated the quiet click that shut him off from his only route of escape. He turned quietly to face the heartbreak he knew was coming, never letting go of the necklace around his neck, hoping that somehow, if he squeezed that metal heart long enough, hard enough, what he knew was about to happen…wouldn't._

"_Alfred… what's wrong?" Arthur watched as his lover tripped over his tongue as he tried to start his goodbye. After a minute or two of stumbling over the words to say, he fell quiet and Arthur watched, still as a statue, as Alfred turned and crossed the space to the porch swing in which they had spent many a happy afternoon and sat down. The chains squealed as the seat shifted slightly under his weight. Alfred took Texas off his face and rubbed his eyes before putting them back on and looking sadly at Arthur over the rims._

"_I can't be with you anymore Arthur…" He said apologetically, his eyes begging for him to understand. _

"_Why?" Arthur's voice was barely above a whisper. His tears stung as they pooled along his eyelashes and he turned his head away from Alfred, not wanting him to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had hurt him once again. _

"_God, Arthur I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" Alfred apologized again and again and with every passing word that fell off the his tongue more hurt and anger boiled within Arthur, accumulating in his stomach until he snapped._

"_Why!" He shouted, turning back towards him, letting warm tears stream down his face. He didn't care that Alfred saw anymore. He just wanted an answer. _

"_I think… I think I love someone more than you…" This answer cut Arthur worse than any fist, blade or bullet he had encountered in all his long history of war. All he could was look at Alfred, trying to process what he'd just been told. _

"_Arthur…?" the tall man asked tentatively when the silence had stretched on far enough. _

"_W-what?" managed Arthur, breathlessly. _

"_Well, you know how they say you only really fall in love once?"_

"_No…"_

"_Well… they do. And I fell in love with someone before I fell in love with you. And I think I love that person more than I love you… I'm sorry." Alfred explained, as if Arthur were a child._

"_W-what did I… what did I do Alfred?" Arthur was already wondering what had gone wrong. Just a few months ago everything had been absolutely amazing between them and he couldn't help but blame himself, insecurity being a bad habit he couldn't quite shake. _

"_Nothing. It's not you, Arthur, it's me. I just can't love you with all my heart anymore. I just don't love you the way you deserve to be loved." Alfred's voice was forced and broken and tears glistened in his eyes, but Arthur couldn't help but wonder if his tears were a product of his heart breaking from the truth in his words, or if Alfred only felt bad because he had to watch the heart break he had caused. _

"_Bull shit…" Arthur whispered as he covered his face with his hands._

"_What?" Alfred hadn't heard the words Arthur had mumbled into his sweater._

"_Bull shit!" He was yelling now. _

"_What!" Alfred asked incredulously, almost as if he'd been slapped. "Do you think I didn't try Arthur? Do you think I wanted to break your heart! Do you think I want to love him!"_

_Oh. Right. The other man. Arthur had been so caught up in blaming himself for everything that was happening that he had totally forgotten to inquire as to the identity of the person who had stolen Alfred away from him. _

"_Who?" Arthur looked up from his hands. _

"_I can't tell you." Spoken all too quickly. _

"_Who is it, Alfred? I think I deserve to know who you've been imagining every time we made love." This was a demand. Arthur needed to know who needed a good beating. _

"_I never imagined anyone else while I was in bed with you!" Alfred was both trying to defend himself and desperately trying to change the subject. _

"_I'm not stupid, you git. I saw those looks in your eye. You looked like you wished I was someone else." Arthur was blatant and the jig was up for Alfred. All the puzzle pieces fit now and Arthur could see the whole picture and once again demanded, words choppy, "Who. Is. It?"_

_Defeat swirled in Alfred's eyes. "Well, it's…it's Mattie," he whispered, probably hoping that Arthur wouldn't hear him over the pounding rain. No use - Arthur heard every syllable, each one like a fresh knife in his heart. _

"_Mattie?" Arthur's face fell when he realized that he couldn't kill Mattie, who had never done anything to him but be kind and mild and unobtrusive._

_Alfred nodded, tears now streaming down his face. "I'm- I'm sorry. I really do love you Iggy, I just- I don't love you enough. Someday, somebody will love you right…" He placed a gentle kiss on Arthur's cheek before standing up, sending Arthur scrambling after him. Arthur knew that pain was written all over his face but he couldn't stop it. His entire being was begging for Alfred to stay. _

_Alfred merely reached around his neck and under his shirt, rummaging around for a moment before he procured a familiar worn iron chain with big loops. So then…he was wearing it. Arthur's heart swelled as he instinctively reached up grabbed the matching heart that hung from his own neck. He thought of all little scars they had on their chests and necks from where the tiny, ornate, sharp gears that decorated the necklaces had scratched them. _

_Alfred pulled the chain from around his neck and took one of Arthur's hands in his own. "This doesn't belong to me anymore, Arthur," he said, slowly placing the necklace in Arthur's palm before forcing his fingers closed._

"_No… I-I don't want it. I gave it to you, you wanker," insulted Arthur weakly, shaking his head slowly. These necklaces were what kept them together when they were an ocean away from each other. Alfred's taking the necklace out of his life was analogous to taking Arthur out of his life. _

"_I'll see you at the next world meeting." Alfred turned and waved once, only barely flinching when Arthur screamed after him. _

"_YOU LIAR! YOU NEVER LOVED ME!" He wanted Alfred to stop, to turn around and tell him he was wrong…to prove that he loved him. But Alfred only kept walking, leaving him Arthur to suffer on his own while he went to tell Mattie that they could live happily ever after. _

_On the inside of his lids Arthur compared the image of Alfred walking away from him and that of his eyes sparkling and his lips moving as he told Arthur he loved him. He could see that smile that he gave him when he was really, really happy. The one it seemed nothing could capture…yes, that smile was precious. But the once thing perhaps more precious, and that Arthur would never have again, was the sound of that voice the world glow as Alfred told Arthur that he loved him. _

Buuuuzzzzzzz… Arthur's pillow started vibrating, almost scaring the bland out of his food. ALMOST. Buuuuuzzzzzzz…

"Shut uppp…" Arthur had finally run out of tears, but was his eyes were sore and his head was pounding, and therefore he most certainly didn't want to answer the cell phone which had interrupted his thoughts of Alfred. Unfortunately, by the fifth ring Arthur had begun to realize that whoever was incessantly calling him wouldn't stop until they heard his actual voice. So he rolled over, forcing his eyes open to look at his clock while he searched blindly for his cell. The numbers on his clock hurt his eyes but he kept glaring at them until he could make out the time.

After two more rings, Arthur could finally tell that it was 11:11 pm and gave a little smile as he recalled how every time Alfred saw the turn to those numbers, his face would light up and he'd yell 'Make a wish Artie, Make a wish, quick!'. Arthur bit his bottom lip and screwed his eyes shut and made a silent wish.

When Arthur finally managed to get a hold of his phone he put it to his ear, pushing the talk button with his thumb as he did so. "Hello?" He flinched when he heard how gruff his voice was and the pain that radiated from his raw throat.

"Quoi?" Oh no. Arthur groaned. Francis was the last person he wanted to talk to at the moment. "You don't sound like Arthur. Did he finally get laid!"

"No! God shut up about the whole 'getting laid' thing frog face, cause it won't bloody happen, and you know it! Now what did you call for, you git? It's damned 11:15 over here!" Francis had been invited, along with every other nation besides himself, to Alfred's birthday party. And, ignoring Arthur's pleas and threats, he had decided to go and enjoy himself in North Carolina.

"I was wondering why you aren't here, mon aime solitaire?" Francis mocked.

"I don't think a certain someone would want to see me and I don't want to see him." Lies. Arthur would love nothing more than to see Alfred. Francis knew that, but being his best, and basically only, friend, he didn't call him on it.

"Ahhhh…it's okay. If it makes you feel any better, I don't think he's with Mathieu." Francis informed him. The frog had always loved to gossip, and for once in his life, Arthur wanted him to continue.

"Really?" He couldn't keep the shock and…was that a hint of delight? from his voice.

"Oui. They've not touched once. And Alfred's being very quiet… he seems upset, especially when he's around all the couples, hon hon hon…" Francis chuckled just imagining Arthur, just as upset as any one man could be, now elated by knowing that his one true desire was potentially available.

"Mmmmm…" Arthur hummed happily into the phone as he held his picture in the air above his face. I like that image very much.

"You're looking at the picture, aren't you, Angleterre?" Francis asked. Really, it was scary how well he knew Arthur. Thousands of years of history can do that to you.

"Yeah…" Arthur knew lying was pointless. "Heh. Remember the last time you saw that picture?"

"Oui…" sighed Francis through the phone. "As though it were yesterday, mon amie"

_Francis gave an overly dramatic happy sigh as he entered the office. It was the day after Alfred had left and Arthur had called Francis almost immediately afterwards, needing someone to help keep his fragile sanity intact. _

"_What are you looking at Angleterre?" asked Francis, throwing his arms around Arthur's neck. He peered over his shoulder to inspect what he was looking at so lovingly. He recognized the frame - a gift from Amérique, non? - and saw that, apparently, Arthur had finally found the perfect picture for it, though all he could really see of it was a corner the color of a dark night sky and a tan hand making a peace sign. _

"_Who is that?" He asked, using one hand to draw the frame closer. _

"_It's the best picture I own of A-Alfred…" Arthur told him, the sad smile on his face widening. What a strange juxtaposition; Francis could see tears forming in the corner of his eyes. _

"_Ahhhh…" Francis hummed knowingly. "No offense, Angleterre, but you let that face break your heart?" He was serious. It wasn't that Alfred was bad looking, no…he was just very… childlike. He saw Arthur grow somber looking down at the picture he'd snapped just a few months ago. Francis hated to admit it, but he wished Alfred hadn't fallen for Mathieu and broken Arthur's heart. Deep down Francis wanted his best friend to happy, and Arthur had never been happier than when he was by the foolish American's side. _

"_So it goes in the burn pile, oui?" Francis tried to lift the frame from England's hands. Abruptly, Arthur's grip went dead tight and his eyes flew wide open with fear. Francis released the frame and watched his friend gradually relax, though he still clutched the frame to his chest. _

"_I'm sorry, Francis. I just… can't let go of this yet." England apologized and Francis ran his hands sensually over Arthur's chest in an effort to annoy the all-too-conservative (in his opinion) man. Halfway down his shirtfront, one of Francis's hands caught on something sharp. _

"_Ow…" he whined, cradling his pricked hand. "What in the hell are you wearing under there Angleterre?" _

"_Apparently my necklace doubles as anti- Francis wear!" Arthur chuckled as he pulled a heart shaped amulet from under his shirt, holding it away from his chest to stare at it. Instantly he looked as if he was far away, which scared Francis – he had never seen his friend like this._

'_This is serious…' He thought to himself. 'Il aime vraiment_…'

"Oui. I do remember. That idiot necklace of yours. You still won't tell me where you hid it," Francis's playful tone abruptly dropped to a hiss. "Oh shit. Arthur, be absolutely silent!" he whispered urgently. "You'll find out why soon."

Oui: Yes (apparently it's not spelt wi…)

Mon amie: My friend

Mon amie solitaire: My lonely friend

Angleterre: England

Quoi: What *Thankies to Alex for helping me with meh French. Stupid google translator!*

Amérique: America


	2. Chapter 2

Hallo! It's your favorite Rika, back once again, with a new chapter of her latest, and greatest (in my own opinion) fanfic yet! UPDATE TIME! Alrighty, first off, I'm still working on the last chapter of It Started With a Charleston Chew. Secondly, I've experienced a set back in my LudwigxFeliciano one shot. I lost between 3-5 pages of it. But I'm still trying to get up in the two weeks.

But as you may have noticed, this is another short chapter. I'm am truly sorry, but my editor Jew and I talked it over again and decided that this was a really good place to cut a chapter. I promise that either this Saturday or Sunday, there will be another, probably longer, chapter up! I'm sure exactly how long it will be or how many chapters there will be now, but they will be up depending on length. (Even though I'm like a page away from finishing this one)

And now, before I bore you all to death, I'll like to announce a contest of sorts. The person who can best depict Arthur and Alfred's necklaces or submit's the picture of a scene from chapters 1 or 2 will get a Hetalia request! Any couple you want! And, I also don't mind most Naruto couples, so that can be done too. Or, if you want to ask about any other anime, I'll do my bestest! Gambatte!

Any who, I don't own Alfred, Arthur, Francis, Ludwig, Feliciano, or Hetalia, no matter how I wish I did. There's cussing, yaoi (boyxboy), and Francis' shenanigans in this fic. Please read and review! It makes me happy! Please enjoy!

"Au revoir!" Francis cried flamboyantly. This was followed by a loud beep that blared in Arthur's ear as he obeyed Francis' orders, not making a single sound as he listened carefully.

"Hey Francis, man...dude, like who were you talking to!"

Oh god. Oh god. That voice was all too familiar. Oh god. Oh…_bollocks!_

"Ah… Amérique! Bonjour! Do not worry your pretty head, I was merely saying good night to Angleterre! Did you know that it is after 11 there way over on our side of the world? Though that old fart will probably be up till God knows when…" Arthur could practically hear Francis rolling his eyes through the phone. Of course he wanted to bite the bloody frog's head off, but smothered the urge. He wanted to see where this conversation was headed.

"Yeah, he was always really uptight! Dude needs to loosen up and be a hero," said Alfred, laughing. Arthur felt his heart pounding against his ribs. It was beating so loudly that he was afraid that Alfred and Francis might be able to hear it through the little speaker on the phone.

"Hon, hon, hon! Too true, dear Amérique! Oh, joyeux anniversaire!"

"Thanks man! This is great! I mean, this year has been kicking major ass!"

"Oh, really? And…por quoi has this been such a kickass year, pray tell?" Francis said this in such a way that Arthur, being forced to remain totally still so as not to make a single sound, could hear the smirk on his face. Mean while, Arthur was dying hearing Alfred say why his year, which had started with that heartbreaking goodbye, had been god damn great.

"Well, the economy's getting better, and we killed Bin Laden this year! Dude, that'll teach the fucking terrorist to fuck with the United God blessed States of America!" Arthur wished he'd gotten to be there when the person who'd kept poor Alfred up so many nights with nightmares of his towers crashing down, with thousands of his people still inside, had finally been taken down. That would've had some crazy sex that night. I do appreciate that, though.

"C'est bon, Alfred!" Francis congratulated, trying to disguise his smirk - it was almost time to put his brilliant plan for l'amor into action. "So…" He chose to begin casually, knowing Arthur was probably feeling a touch heartbroken from hearing Alfred talking about his fabulous year. Despite himself, Francis wanted to approach the subject with care. "How are things with you and Mathieu?"

"What?" Alfred asked, confused. "Oh. Ar- England told you about that huh?" He said this after a short pause, his voice ringing with sudden understanding. He heard Francis give a small grunt of affirmation. "Yeah, um… lets go around front, dude. We can talk in private there."

"Okay." Francis agreed quickly, and in the English language. If Alfred was any brighter this would have been a tip off to whatever his intentions were, Arthur allowed himself to think fondly, seeing as all he was able to hear for a few minutes was the shuffling of feet over what sounded like a crisply manicured lawn grass before total silence. Francis was the first to speak. "So. Mathieu?" He plied, trying to start the conversation once again as gently as he could. Oh, yes, if Alfred was any brighter he would have long figured out that something was amiss.

But that wasn't the case.

"Nothings happening between me and Mattie," he said quietly. "And…nothing ever did. You see…he's just my best friend now. I don't love him anymore."

"Really?" Disbelief dripped from Francis' voice.

"Yeah…and…Mattie doesn't love me either. Not like that, anyways. He's just there for me. He's just cool like that." Alfred was desperately trying to convince Francis of this and he was inadvertently stealing Arthur's breath away from him in the process.

"Hmmm… when was that decided?" drawled Francis, still not sure if he believed that the American was truly over Mathieu. He had to be sure, seeing as he certainly wasn't going to let Arthur get hurt again, at least not by this childish fool.

"Dude… pro'lly about a month after me and Arth- I mean England and I split."

"You mean when you left him." Francis's voice was curt. "He is a broken man now, Alfred. I am the only person who's been allowed in his home for over six months!" Suddenly Francis was yelling, having forgotten that Arthur was on the third end of this conversation in his sudden need to give the Alfred hell for what he had done to his best friend. "Arthur only leaves to go to the store and go to work. He can't sleep through the night! If only you could see the bags under his eyes! And you dare to call what you did to him a 'split', as though it were somehow mutual…fuck, what you call a split is you dumping him and not even caring enough to be sad about it for a week!"

"Look, Francis, man. I thought I was helping him. I really thought I was doing what a hero would do, okay? I didn't like breaking his heart!" Alfred's voice was raw. "No…I hated doing it, but I thought it had to be done. I just… I… didn't know how felt and he deserved…deserves…better than that!"

"Were you truly thinking that he deserved better…" Francis's voice was deadly. "…or that you did?"

Chills actually ran down Arthur's spine hearing his friend's cold voice. He could almost see the disgust in the frog's blue eyes. The emotion made them hazy.

There was long pause, filled heavy silence. The tension between Francis and Alfred was so thick it was almost audible.

"Recognize this?" Francis mocked, breaking the silence. Arthur could only imagine what it was that the frog had, but something told him this wasn't going to end well. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard a loud thud against what he assumed was the wooden exterior of the house. This was accompanied by a heavy oomph from Francis.

"Where did you get that…?" Alfred growled, his voice low and animalistic. If Arthur hadn't been scared it would have turned him on.

"What if I said pretty little Angleterre gave it to me?" Honestly, Francis sounded like a schoolgirl sometimes. Arthur just wished someone would say what the hell they were fighting over.

"Then I'd castrate you…"

"That's not very heroic! Hon hon hon. I'll disregard your threat and tell you the truth - Angleterre asked me to wear it. He's absolutely adorable, really. Seems we're able to forget the Norman Conquest after all…" Francis managed to maintain a casual tone despite the fact that he was being crushed against a wall by the world's one and only superpower.

"He wouldn't ever give that to the likes of you," said superpower was saying. "That necklace is special! I loved that!" Aha! Finally, Arthur knew what he and Francis had been talking about. Somehow, the bloody frog had figured out where Arthur had hid the two steam punk hearts that had belonged to him and Alfred. Arthur made a mental note to beat that resilient smirk right off Francis's face the next time he got the chance.

"Yeah, sure. Just like you loved him, right?"

"Yes, just like I loved him! Just like I love him! Cause guess what…" Alfred took a deep breath. Arthur ached at the pain in his voice and realized that he was clutching the phone so hard his knuckles hurt.

"I'll humor you," drawled Francis. "Quoi?"

Arthur's breath caught in sync with Alfred's before he yelled, "I didn't fucking stop! I never fucking stopped!"

Arthur's heart soared. France was talking again.

"Good, mon Amerique, because this necklace isn't yours." He was speaking so calmly. "You see, Arthur won't even let me see the stupid things. I've only seen his once before he hid them both from me. He gave me a hint for my birthday, but I can't figure it out."

"What's the hint dude?" Alfred asked, sounding honestly curious. He'd always been fast to forgive, as long as you didn't hurt the American people.

"They're somewhere close at hand, but where they belong. Somewhere I'd never look, because it's special to two. That's all he told me. Bouché vieil homme." Although Francis had just given up a rather large secret of his, Arthur wasn't worried. He was relatively sure that Alfred would never figure out where he had hid them.

"His teddy bear." Alfred said surely after a short pause. "They're probably wrapped around the neck of the teddy bear he held the first time we had sex."

"Hon hon hon. Angleterre held a teddy bear the first time you two had sex!" Francis could barely speak between laughs and Arthur thought that he would kill the both of them. Well, kill Francis. Alfred he would have rape first.

"Yeah dude! It was actually really, really cute!" Arthur's heart thudded at Alfred's tone. "But…that necklace looks almost exactly like mine. Mine had two clock hands, not one."

"Amérique. Why don't you go back to Angleterre?" Francis asked this as innocently as he could possibly manage, being France and all. He was obviously trying not to insinuate anything lewd and Arthur appreciated the effort.

Alfred had fallen silent once again, biting his lip in a way that made Francis think of Arthur. Maybe he'd picked it up from him, just like Arthur had picked up his fair share of habits from him.

"I don't think he'd take me back. Not after I left him sitting on his porch while it was pouring rain." Alfred's usually loud and cheerful voice was hushed and sad.

"Why don't you ask him?" Francis did what every nation had needed to do at least once in order to help Alfred along his way - pointed out the obvious. "He loves you very much. And if you work hard enough, he'll take you back. All you have to do is prove yourself, mon Amérique."

"Do you really think he'd take me back, Francis?" Alfred's voice showed Arthur the hope he felt and caused him to quite seriously consider hanging up and flying over to America's home at that very second, but then again he did really want to hear the end of this conversation…now…

"Of course silly!" Francis exclaimed. "I would not give you this advice if I did not."

"But…what do I do?" Alfred spoke with a sudden confusion and hesitation that made Arthur deflate just a little. He wanted Alfred to be spontaneous, to sweep him off his feet as he had so many times before.

"What do you want to do?"

"See him." Alfred answered so automatically that fresh tears sprang to Arthur's eyes and he had to struggle to keep his breathing even and quiet as they threatened to spill over onto his cheeks.

"Where are you going once everyone's gone?" Francis's voice absolutely dripped with pride and if Arthur wasn't so caught up in the giddiness of it all he would have been busy dreading the teasing he was going to receive from the man for the next couple of, oh, _millennia_.

"To England." Alfred sounded so totally sure of himself that Arthur lost control and found his joy spilling out of his mouth in loud excited gasp that his hand clamped down over just seconds too late to contain. Arthur knew that Alfred must have heard it, but that didn't stop him from praying that he hadn't.

"…What was that?" Alfred sounded absolutely livid.

"Eh… umm…" Francis fumbled, "Well, Amérique, um… it seems I had my phone on… hon hon…"

"On speaker?" asked Alfred, fake kindness radiating from his words.

"It would… seem so…" Francis spoke slowly, nervously. The sound was almost reminiscent of his conversations with Germany in the Vichy days, informing England that he was trying to plan the fastest way out, (surrender being the thing the French are best at, next of course to making their lovers come to climaxes that render them unable to see for longer than convenient) just in case Alfred went into a fit of rage and attempted to kill him

"Fabulous! With whom, pray tell?" Alfred sounded like he was smiling falsely, or so Arthur assumed.

"U-umm…" Francis was actually stumbling over his words in his attempts to not give Arthur away. A screw-up now could totally ruin Arthur's chances of being happy again…ever. "I-I don't know…" Francis was trying, and failing.

Alfred's voice was very quiet.

"England is on the other end of that line, isn't he, dude?"

"Bloody fucking hell!" Arthur cursed and hung up the phone as quickly as he could.

"Oui." Francis told Alfred, who, having heard Arthur's profanities, looked absolutely crushed. "Amérique, I'm so sorry. I forgot that my phone was on. He just wanted to hear your voice again." Francis tried to explain and comfort the tall man. Francis struggled to explain, compelled by a strange desire to comfort Alfred when he had such an expression on his face.

"I can't go now, can I?" Why…Alfred looked positively…disheartened…

"Of course you should go! Angleterre would love that, and surly now he doesn't expect you to go!" Francis willed Alfred to go and sweep Arthur off his feet.

"Alfred!" A voice called from around the corner of the house, to which both Alfred and Francis quickly placed a face. Mattie was coming to find Alfred for the fireworks, which would begin soon. It had already grown fairly dark out, and everyone had decided to go home early this year so that they could get ready for the next World Meeting that less than a week away due to some poor timing on the part of Feliciano.

"I'm over here Mattie." Alfred called out to his brother weakly.

"There you are Al! It's almost time for the…" Mattie's voice trailed off when he rounded the corner and saw Alfred staring at the ground and Francis looking guilty. Well, guiltier than he usually did. "Al, what's wrong?" He jogged over to his twin and placed a concerned hand on his shoulder.

"I… England… on the phone…I was gonna go see him and get him back, Mattie. But he heard me…"

"How did he hear you, eh?" Mattie asked, rubbing America's broad shoulders.

"Francis had his phone on speaker." Alfred said this with a heavy, tired sigh.

"Francis… come on, why in the name of maple did you do this to Alfred? He's hurting enough as it is!" Mattie glared up at Francis.

"Oh, and Arthur is not Mathieu?" the Frenchman shot back. "All he wanted to do was hear Alfred's voice, but he thought the idiot hated him and refused to go anywhere near him. I didn't mean for Angleterre to hear. I just forgot that my phone was still on. Arthur was so quiet."

"Is that true, Alfred?" Mattie asked softly. "Cause if it's not, I'll go all rogue hockey player on his ass for you." Alfred simply nodded and began to walk around the side of his house and to his backyard to watch the fireworks with his guests. He sorely wished that Arthur was walking across the lawn with him….Alfred drew the picture in his mind. He would be arm and arm with the conservative Brit, and would probably get yelled at when he tried to slip his hand in the other's back pocket, but then he would think that Arthur's delicate blush was always worth a hundred of his shrill lectures and would kiss him, softly, almost gratefully, beneath the exploding fireworks.

All of that, everything that he imagined...Alfred missed so much that his body ached. But then again, maybe it wasn't too late to get _that _back. Maybe he would go to England and try and sweep Arthur off his feet, like Francis had said. Judging by the gasp Arthur had given when he had heard that Alfred was planning on going there and surprising him, reclaiming his heart with some good, old-fashioned American charm and romance couldn't be too hard to accomplish…it was like Francis said, all Alfred had to do was try hard enough. Heroes always try their hardest.

And Alfred Jones was one hell of a hero.

joyeux anniversaire: Happy birthday

Au revoir: Goodbye

Bonjour: Hello

Por Quoi: Why?

C'est bon: It's good

Bouché vieil homme: Stuffy old man


	3. Chapter 3

Hallo! Its Rika-san! I'm sorry for this being a day late. I was unexpectedly busy this weekend. And my laptop is being stupid again. *sigh* Well, another short chapter, but another good cut off point. There should only be one or two more chapters. We'll see how much time I have this weekend. :D

Please read and review! It makes me happy! I own nothing. Not Hetalia, or anyone mentioned here. If I did, they'd be doing each other constantly, which I chose to believe they do in their spare time anyvays. Enjoy!

Alfred had just said goodbye to what he thought might be the last guest and looked at the grandfather clock in his hallway to see that it was scarcely after ten. Thank god for Feliciano's inept planning skills; had the other nations had the time to part that night Alfred would have never gotten to the airport in time. He had already decided both that he was going to leave for England as soon as possible and that upon arrival he would promptly and oh-so-heroically reclaim his Arthur's heart. All there was left to do was leave…

…But of course, one guest still remained - Francis was positioned quite comfortably on Alfred's love seat, (because where else would Francis sit?) waiting patiently (for once in his life) until he finished being a good host. Alfred didn't hear him chuckling quietly to himself as he remembered the time that Alfred had somehow managed to pass off the bill for his Christmas party on poor Kiku, even Christian.

"Francis! When does the plane leave!" Alfred called out just as soon as the door closed behind Ludwig, who had slung a very, very drunk Feliciano over his shoulder

"In 2 hours, Alfred. Go get ready now! I called ahead and reserved a seat next for you! Now don't forget to call your damn boss - I won't get in trouble for you this time!" Francis yelled this louder than necessary, wanting to make sure that Alfred actually did everything that Francis needed him to do so that the operation would go as smoothly as possible. Considering that Arthur would go crazy just seeing Alfred pop up on his doorstep, every other element of their plan had to be flawless.

Surprisingly, it took Alfred not even half an hour to gather everything that he would need for the week, and in the end it was he who was shouting for Francis to get his shit together and get the fuck out of there.

Alfred was all decked out in his bomber suit (for the greatest war of all – love) and Francis couldn't help but laugh when he saw him; he looked so like a child, albeit one with a very filthy mouth, that the idea that he was the same man who had slammed Francis up against the house (leaving a series of unattractive bruises, he might add) and threatened him with death could only be comical.

"You have called your boss?" Francis asked as he pushed himself off the couch.

"Yeah, dude, and I got the next three days off as long as I work a couple hours over time the other days before the World Meeting you know. He's such a total pushover, man – just wants everyone to be happy. Totally bipartisan." As Alfred shoved his key in the lock and commanded that Francis get his ass out there right now so that they could fucking leave already, his hand shook, rattling the key against the doorknob audibly. Francis chuckled.

"Alfred, are you scared?"

"Dude, no! Heroes don't get scared!" Alfred snapped, grabbing Francis by the shoulder and dragging him outside. "I'm just nervous in like the totally manliest way!"

"Everything is going to be okay, mon amie," Francis laughed. "He still loves you, believe me – I know mon amor." Alfred relaxed just a little, though he found it hard to believe that Arthur would ever forgive him for what he had done. Nonetheless, he had never seen Francis try so hard or so…genuinely…and gave him a thankful smile before he brushed past him to the car, focusing on the thin layer of sweat that he could feel already forming on his forehead. North Carolina was extremely hot this time of year, and with the addition of his heavy leather jacket the temperature was hellish.

"You wanna drive?" Alfred asked

"Oui!" exclaimed Francis excitedly. He had pestered Alfred to let him the drive his truck earlier when he had picked him from the airport but had been immediately shut down due to the fact that Alfred was very protective of his "Southern Belle" and hardly ever let anyone who wasn't himself get behind the wheel. Francis guessed that Alfred only leant him the keys now because he wasn't too sure that he would be able to pay attention to the road. How adorable - Francis couldn't resist jingling the keys and Alfred scowled at him from the passenger's seat.

The ride to the airport was quiet; Francis was far too busy trying to maneuver the beast of an automobile down streets crowded by citizens leaving this party and that, and Alfred was too busy trying to figure out what he would say to England once he saw him. He ran through at least a hundred different scenarios in his head in the forty minutes to the airport. Some of them ended well, with Arthur's arms around his neck and their legs tangled every which way and various names being called and endearments being said, but the majority of them ended in complete disaster, with tears and anger or worst of all, no acknowledgement at all, only the coldness that Alfred knew from history that Arthur was all too capable of.

After the long, irritating and now rather violating trip through airport security, Alfred and Francis were finally on the way to the terminal. The airport was fairly nice one despite its small size, and Alfred had always enjoyed strolling through it. He'd always liked how they had comfy chairs and of course his favorite fast food places and convenience stores, where he could get his favorite candies and trashy magazines. (Not like Alfred read those…no way…)

Alfred found the terminal and plopped town in a chair, and tapping his foot impatiently to count the passing time. He glanced down at his wristwatch and saw that he had at least another half an hour to wait. Alfred screwed his eyes shut and was considering chucking the offending timepiece against the wall when he heard a familiar voice shouting…or rather, gasping…his name.

"Alfred, ~ve!" Ah. Feliciano. "Ludwig, Ludwig, Ludwig! Look Ludwig, it's Alfred, ~ve!" Alfred snapped his eyes open and looked around in a panic, afraid that this would ruin his plan. If he gave Ludwig a reason to be suspicious, everything would be ruined for sure. How? He didn't quite know, but he did know that it would be ruined and therefore forced what he considered to be a seamlessly heroic smile onto his face and leapt from his seat, actually jogging (jogging!) to greet his friends.

"Hey dudes!" He sounded normal, right? "What's up!"

"Ve are vating on the plane. It is running late, you see…" Ludwig answered quickly and blushed when he realized that he had interrupted Feliciano, who had opened his mouth to speak.

"~Ve! Yeah! I can't wait to go home and have some pasta! But the plane is all late, so I guess I will have to wait, ~ve…" Undeterred, Feliciano continued to ramble in the background as Alfred talked with Ludwig.

"So, Alfred, vhat are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home or your office preparing for the meeting?"

Fantastic. Even Alfred could tell that the German was already suspicious of him. Black hawk down! This called for super hero-tastic evasive maneuvers.

"Nah," he cried. "I got a couple days off for my birthday! I'll just put on a couple extra hours when I get back. But I'm gonna go home with France today! It's gonna be awesome!" Alfred mentally patted himself on the back for his totally logical explanation as he flashed a brilliant white smile, trying to convince Ludwig to, once and for all, get off his ass. This seemed to be working magically, or at least sufficiently, until the loudspeaker announced that there were twenty minutes until the midnight plane to England would board, and until Francis ran up to Alfred and asked if he was ready for their flight.

Alfred silently admitted defeat as Francis and Feliciano looked between him and Ludwig, both completely lost. Alfred gave Ludwig the most imploring look he possibly could.

"Look, man," If he sounded pathetic enough, perhaps Ludwig would be nice. "I'm going to see England. I'm going to get him back. But he doesn't know I'm going so you can't tell anyone! Please, dude, please."

Ludwig nodded slowly. Which meant..?

"I assumed as much," he said quietly. "Don't worry, friend, I won't tell Arthur what you are doing."

"~VE!" Feliciano shouted. His surprise was such that his amber eyes were actually opened. "You're going to make Arthur feel all better!"

"Ja, he is." Ludwig answered quickly. He hooked an arm around Feliciano's waist and pulled him lovingly to his side, looking seriously into his eyes and commanding his attention in that way that only he could. "You must be quiet. Alfred wants this to be a secret. Like a surprise, Feliciano. You don't want to ruin Amerika's surprise do you?" Feliciano shook his head vigorously in response to Ludwig's surprisingly gentle explanation while Alfred watched closely, amazed at this new tender side of Ludwig's personality.

"No, ~ve! I want England to go to the next meeting, ~ve, and he won't come if he and Alfred don't make nice, ~ve!" Feliciano actually buried his head against Ludwig's chest. But of course his distress didn't last long and he quickly lifted his head back up and turned to Alfred. "What are you going to do for Arthur, ~ve? You have to be totally romantico, ~ve!"

Alfred shook his head and gave a frustrated sigh. Feliciano's words had reminded him of the problem he'd been so focused on before being they had interrupted them.

"W-well… I'm really not too sure what I'm going to do… I haven't seen him in a while and I don't even know how he feels about me…" Alfred explained the situation hesitantly, hoping someone would cut him off with some sort of advice. No result; in fact, Francis was rolling his eyes in an obnoxious French sort of way.

"I keep trying to tell him that Angleterre does love him, but the imbecile refuses to listen to me!" He huffed.

"Hey!" Alfred folded his arms across his chest. "I just find it somewhat hard to believe that he still loves me! I mean, I'd totally hate me for all the shit that I did, dude!"

"Vell, just be yourself. That's who Arthur fell in love vith, no? Just don't show him the Alfred that dumped him." Ludwig stated this advice very knowledgeably, though his apparent wisdom was ruined when Feliciano spoke up.

"Ludwig's right, ~ve! He probably hates that you, ~ve! What you need to do is woo him the same way you did when you were dating, ~ve!" He looked proud.

"Woo' him? Dude, how do I 'woo' someone?" Alfred was sure to add air quotations whenever he said the word 'woo'.

"You be romantic, ~ve! Just do what you would do to get him in bed,~ ve!" Feliciano punctuated this with a kiss on Ludwig's kiss. "Like to woo Ludwig, ~ve, I make him his favorite foods and wear the outfit he likes so much, ~ve! You know, Ludwig, one of Kiku's anime costumes…what was it from ~ve…oh, Captain Moon?"

"_Sailor _moon!" hissed Ludwig; no matter how embarrassed he was he would never fail to correct Feliciano.

However, if the correction had been an effort to get Feliciano to stop, it failed, and he continued gleefully informing Alfred and Francis all of his tried and true wooing methods.

"Well, Feliciano…um, this is very…erm…informative…." Alfred was desperately trying to change the subject.

"Hey, Alfred, are you on top with Arthur, ~ve?" He said this so innocently! "Because I think you'd top, ve, but most people think that Ludwig would top me, ~ve, but really, I top him, you see, so you can never know, ~ve -" A big hand clamped over Feliciano's mouth. Ludwig hadn't been so red since the Treaty of Versailles, and Alfred and Francis were failing miserably at stifling their laughter.

"Shut up!" Ludwig uncovered Feliciano's mouth so that he could form fists at his sides.

"~Ve… Ludwig…" said Feliciano in the sweetest way he possibly could. Even he knew he needed to calm Ludwig before he hurt someone (not him, of course – a pedestrian or something) and they were banned from _another_ airport. "Did I say something bad, ve…?" He looped his arms around the Ludwig's neck and eventually began to feel the tension there gradually melt away, to the point where Ludwig actually made brief eye contact with Feliciano, who gave a sigh of relief. They wouldn't have to leave the airport after all!

"No more discussing our private life, Feliciano. ~Ve," he mocked him gently, "Don't do that! And, ~ve, don't ask if people top other people. Apologize to Alfred."

"Alfred, ~ve…" He was smiling too much to be sorry. Damn Italians. "I'm very sorry, ~ve."

"It's fine Dude!" Alfred dismissed the incident with a wave of his hand and glanced at his watch. "Francis, dude, our plane leaves soon, man!" Suddenly his tone went deadly serious. "Did you get my candy?" It was a long flight to London and he would never make it if he didn't have at least some Charleston Chews.

"Calm down, l'Amerique! I've got your sugar in my carry on!" said Francis as the loud speaker announced first class were now boarding. He and Alfred had Business class tickets and would be boarding next, so they gave their hasty goodbyes to their friends.

"Well, au revoir, my friends! Alfred and I will board next. I will tell you what happens…when I find out, which may not be till morning, if you know what I mean!" Francis winked. Dear god. One with that Feliciano. Alfred made sure to tell him so before spinning on his heel and yelling back to their friends,

"Well, this hero's got to go! So I'll see you later dudes!" He gave them a small salute, turned, and grabbed his bags, with Francis following closely behind.

Romantico: Romantic

Mon Amor: My love


	4. Chapter 4

Nee, nee, everyone! Worldaccordingtofangirls / super-hero-tastic-Jew-editor-of-bitchiness here. As implied in the previous sentence, I am the editor of this story (and the many more to come) and since this is one of the last chapters I wanted to get in on the author's notage fun before "Picture and a Heart" ends.

Sorry this took so long in coming out; we were swamped this week and also I went to Animazement (a convention which Rika-chan was banned from, heheheh) on Thursday and Friday in FULL ALFRED COSPLAY and I went to the dealers room and they had a whole yaoi doujin booth and an enormous box FULL OF USUK and I squealed at every cover I saw and the lady there was like, "are you alright?" and I was like, "I just adore this pairing" and she was like, "oh, I understand now", and although unfortunately I could not open most of them because I am under 18 years of age, I saw all the titles and cover art and "Santa Clause Lover" is definitely my favorite...yes, Alfred was Santa of course. ANYWAYS, BACK TO TALKING ABOUT THE STORY.

Heheheheh, we finally get some action in this chapter!~ (Besides intense angst) And we have sexytiems in the next so look forwards to that, ya pervs. And I would like to note that I edited the chapter you are about to read in a room full of children, a feat nearly as brave and impressive as it was idiotic.

Advertisement section: if you can read Spanish and want to see some terrible gringo grammar, tune in to my fics! Otherwise, keep reading Rika's amazing-awesome-totally-not-shit-without-me fiction. Next (smutty) chappie very soon!

Nee, nee! (Editor-jew up there stole that from me.) Rika-san here! No questions about me being banned from the convention. Just make up vhat you think happened. Editor-jew pretty much summed things up. I just want to apologize for the lateness of this chappie. The epilogue might be just a little late. I have exams next week all week, and I haven't been feeling well.

**IMPORTANT!: THE TITLE IS GOING TO BE CHANGED! **

I honestly went through like 5 other titles before A Picture and a Heart and hated them all. And I hate this one now too. So now it will be Picture Perfect. The change will take effect in the next two days. Thank you very much.

OH! AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, EVERYONE WISH MY EDITOR-JEW A HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Her birthday is June 1st! And without her, my writing would probably suck ass. :D Love you hero!

Read and review please! I own nozhing! Please enjoy!

"God, I hated that fucking flight." Alfred complained, not whined, because heroes don't whine. "Have I told you that?" Francis was trying to drive through the winding London streets and was very close to smacking the American, who, due to their proximity (five minutes, perhaps?) to Arthur's home, wouldn't stop fidgeting

"Oui, Amerique, you have told me about a thousand times, now shut up and be quiet…and _still…_for five minutes until we get there and then just follow my lead, dammit." Francis massaged his forehead. Nervousness he could understand, but this was like hell on earth. Alfred had an uncanny ability to take everything to a whole new, wholly unnecessary level.

The rest of the ride to Arthur's home was completely and totally silent. The only sound was the spinning of the tires against the pavement, the occasional squeal of breaks and the gentle tap of Francis' fingers against the steering wheel. Alfred stared out the window, leaning his forehead against the glass as he watched the familiar scenery blur past, realizing that he could still follow the pattern of the twisted streets and grey architecture despite the fact that he hadn't been in London in six months, though admittedly he had seen the city in his dreams countless times since he had left.

But now he was actually there, and it was nerve racking to drive down the streets in such different circumstances than before. That faraway afternoon when Alfred had tried to say goodbye to Arthur it had been pouring down rain and Alfred had been glad because the water running down the window of his rental car had hid the fact that he was crying from people on the streets.

But today he was in a fancy-ass French mobile and his eyes were dry, not to mention that his head and heart were clear, albeit racing faster and faster as they neared Arthur's home. This time, Alfred knew what he wanted with all of his heart. There were no if, ands, or buts about what his goals where Okay, for god's sake, are we in kindergarten? The first time you did this I didn't call you out but _really? _It's 'were'…you know, the past tense form of the verb 'to be'? - Alfred was going to be with Arthur again by the end of the day if it was the very last thing he would ever do.

'Please…' He prayed to whatever merciful God might be listening to him. 'Let him love me again. Let him take me back. Let him need me.' Alfred finished just as Francis turned onto the gravel drive that lead up to the beautiful townhouse where Arthur lived, and he felt his stomach flop as the car came to stop and Francis opened his car door.

Alfred was suddenly tempted to tell Francis to take him back to the airport, that he couldn't go through with this, no way…but it was far too late to turn back now. Alfred took a deep breath, steeled himself and lifted himself out of the car. He could feel his heart pound against his ribcage and his palms begin to sweat as he followed Francis to the door, and actually trembled a bit (very heroically) as Francis pulled a key out of the pocket of his skinny jeans with just a little bit of difficulty.

"Ah!" Francis exclaimed as he swung the door open with a flamboyant motion. "Arthur! Yooo-hooo! Where are you, Angleterre?" His dress shoes clicked softly as he crossed the floor, and when there was no squeak of sneakers following he turned back to look at Alfred and saw he was peering hesitantly into the house as he stood frozen outside the door. Francis sighed and waved him in, signaling for him to be quiet as he entered.

Alfred did as he was told and placed a tentative foot in the house before falling just behind Francis as they walked towards the stairs. "Angleterre, where are you mon aime? Come see what I brought for you all the way from Amérique!"

"I'm busy…and are you joking? That's cruel, frog face! Well, cruel or not, you'll have to come up here if you want to see me." Though the voice that floated down the stairs was hoarse and raw, Alfred could still easily identify it as belonging to Arthur.

"No, it is true!" wailed Francis. "I brought him – it!...all the way from the land of liberty and brotherhood and amber waves of grain," At this Francis tugged on Nantucket and Alfred hissed in annoyance. "…and, Angleterre," continued Francis with the faintest grin, "…where exactly is this _here_ you speak of?"

"My office!" cried Arthur. Francis' smile broadened, and judging by the way he bounced up the stairs, motioning for Alfred to follow, he was immensely pleased. Alfred stayed quiet to the last step and through his nervousness felt a tiny scrap of pride in this accomplishment. Both men knew where Arthur's office was and tiptoed down the hallway.

The door was open and Francis entered the room first, leading the way for Alfred, Arthur was sitting with his legs crossed on the floor, surrounded by a pile of papers. It was an absolute mess …totally out of character in this case, nothing at all works just fine. Alfred had never seen so much clutter in Arthur's home. Judging by Francis' reaction, he wasn't alone in his surprise.

"Arthur, what happened?" Francis' voice was weak with concern. Arthur didn't turn to acknowledge either of them, instead fiddling with the papers in his hand, arranging and rearranging them for a few moments before he spoke.

"I did it last night. I was just so…upset. What with Alfred's birthday and all… the paperwork wasn't helping, though I supposed it deserved better than this." There was no humor in his voice and he never looked up from the papers in his hand.

"Did you do this after…the call?" asked Francis while Alfred bit his lip to keep what he wanted to say in his mouth.

"Before." Arthur answered curtly, perhaps trying to end the conversation, but by then the misery in his voice had become too much for Alfred and he had to say _something. _

"England…" Arthur picked his head up, looking straight ahead.

"That's weird…" He said slowly. "Francis, I think I'm going crazy. You'll laugh at me, but I could swear that I just heard Alfred…"

"You're not going crazy." Alfred said, taking a bold step forward.

"What…?" Arthur turned just slightly and realized that he could see worn denim out of the corner of his eye.

"I - I'm right here, dude."

"Here's your present, Angleterre!" Francis exclaimed, trying to give his friend the best and brightest smile he could even as he doubted his wisdom in bringing Alfred with him. "Now, I'm going to go. Call me when it's safe to come back, Arthur!" Francis had to admire his own nerve – he actually winked suggestively at them as he swirled out the door.

"Goodbye now, Francis. I'll suppose that I'll deal with you later." Arthur's his voice was stony as he pushed himself to his feet, curling his fingers over the edges of his too-long sweater and bringing a fist to his lips. He waited until he heard the slam of the door and the turning of an engine sound from the driveway before he turned to Alfred, the man who had broken his heart, torn his world apart, and yet was still who Arthur loved and wanted with all his heart and soul. How illogical. It was disgusting.

"Why did you come here?" asked Arthur against the knitted fabric of his sleeve. Alfred found that he wasn't quite sure how to answer. He knew he was walking on glass and that it was going to be hard to make what he'd done right. Actually, that was impossible. What was going to be hard was achieving Arthur's forgiveness.

After he was done gaping, Alfred said the only thing he could think to say, "I just wanted to talk to you, you know?"

"Alfred, love, forgive me for saying so, but the last time you wanted to talk to me, I was left alone on my cold porch in the _rain, _which was very cinematic of you, by the way, with no one to turn to but _Francis._" Arthur's voice was cool enough to send chills down Alfred's spine.

"Look, I know I was an ass back then, but I didn't know what I wanted and it wasn't fair to make you suffer because I was unsure of my own self!" Idiotically, Alfred jumped to the defensive.

"Please tell me, Alfred, if that's your explanation, how exactly do you know what you want now?" Arthur's emerald eyes were frozen.

"Because I know I don't love Mattie anymore! And think about it Arthur…before we start fighting, were you happier with or without me?"

"Well…" Arthur's eyes widened and Alfred took some comfort in that he had drawn a reaction other than indifference from him. "Of…of course _I _was happier with you. But then again, _I _didn't exactly _ask _you to leave me, so it's hardly relevant. Alfred, as far as I can tell you can do just fine without me."

"Well you're wrong." Alfred said quickly. "I was happier with you."

"Why?"

Alfred's voice quivered slightly as it rose. "Dammit it, Arthur, again with the 'why'! That's always what it is with you…why! You want to know why I love you, why I'm here, why I'm doing all this shit! It's always the same!"

Arthur reeled back as if he'd been slapped. His heart painted the pain on his face, and tears sprang into his eyes. He first spoke in a whisper. "You're exactly right…I want to know why…oh, America, why are you doing this to me?" Arthur stifled a sniff. "Why are you hurting me like this again? You're always doing this to me." His voice began to escalate. "You leave and pretend nothing ever happened, and then you come back expecting me to take you back just like fucking that, to pretend nothing ever happened!" His hand finally left his mouth to make a fist at his side. He looked like he wanted to hit Alfred but if he hadn't done it during the Revolution Alfred was damn sure he wouldn't do it now.

"Arthur…" Alfred took a step forwards. "I swear I'm not doing anything! I just want you back! What happened in the past is the past…why can't we just move past it and be how we were before all that ever happened!"

"Because you can't rewrite history, Alfred! It _did _happen, and you hurt me! It's just not that easy Alfred! You left me for another fucking man! And not any man, for your brother! Oh, Alfred, how I wish it were that easy!" Arthur was crying now.

"And I'm sorry, Arthur! I made a mistake! I'm sorry! I want to move on, but not on my own. I need you with me!" His voice softened slightly. "Please, can't we just forget, just once?"

They most certainly could not, and Arthur told Alfred so, along with the fact that Arthur couldn't believe that Alfred had the nerve to stand in front of him and ask him to just forget that he'd left him for his own brother.

"Don't you even care!" he shouted.

"Care about what, Arthur!"

"Care that you hurt me and I'm still hurting! As far as I can see, you could give a shit as long as I take you back!"

"Of _course _I care that you're hurting Arthur, man, do I ever! Can't you see that I want to make it better, that I want to help you like the hero I am? I can't do that if you're stuck in the past!"

"Alfred," Arthur was beginning to tire of this, "I'm going to be frank with you. I can't move on because I'm afraid, and I'm afraid because I know you, Alfred, I know you and your..ah…_hero self _all too well, and therefore know that you'll most likely be gone again before your next birthday. You see, love, what I want doesn't exactly factor into this equation, and it never has…oh, Alfred, I don't know what to think and because of that I can't…I just can't…and there's still Matthew…and…" Arthur gave a little sigh as his voice trailed off.

"So what?" Oh dear; Alfred had that determined look in his eyes. "You think I'm tired of you? That I don't love you? That I'll leave you again? 'Cause I won't. Dude, I can't believe you think so little of me."

"See! Do you even care-" Arthur was cut off by a steaming mad teehee you can't write that! furious Alfred.

"Care about what, Arthur? About you!" Alfred inched closer as he spoke. Evidently, his temper was rising…through his distress Arthur dryly thought that he had better be careful or nuclear war might be suddenly declared on the United Kingdom. "Of course I care about you!"

"Then…prove it!" This was not the best comeback in the world, but then again, Arthur was trying to avoid the apocalypse. Alfred scrunched up his nose and put his hands on his hips, and if Arthur hadn't been so exhausted and angry and sad he would have found the expression exceptionally adorable.

"F-fine then!" stuttered Alfred, stepping forwards. "Watch me!" Too quickly, much too quickly, he closed the space between them and was wrapping his arms around Arthur's slender waist, pulling him close and kissing him. Arthur hadn't only been trying to diffuse Alfred's anger and likewise the threat of nuclear war, he had also been trying to make him think and certainly hadn't expected an answer (though perhaps, knowing Alfred, he should have been) that was so…physical.

Arthur couldn't help but melt into the kiss. It had been a long time since he had been kissed that way…Halloween night, he believed, and hadn't been merely a kiss, there had been some crazy sex too…Arthur chuckled against Alfred's warm, plump lips mouth and realized that he had wound his arms against his neck. Part of him nagged at him to stop right then and there, that this would only end in pain, but another told him in a much louder and more persuasive way that he should let himself be happy and deepen the kiss.

Alfred almost seemed to sense Arthur's desires and nipped at his bottom lip, ordering rather than asking that Arthur opened his mouth. Arthur complied and his spine tingled as he realized that Alfred wasn't exploring his mouth but rather approached it as an expert, an assumption proved when his tongue flicked across the one spot there that could make Arthur moan. Alfred chuckled as Arthur's hands curled into weak fists in the tough leather of his signature bomber jacket.

Alfred pulled away breathlessly. Gasping and blushing, Arthur looked absolutely adorable, and not only that – happiness sparkled behind the shy longing in his eyes even and he chewed hopefully on his bottom lip.

"Stop that," Alfred commanded softly, stealing a chaste kiss that lasted just long enough to draw Arthur's lips apart. "If you chew on them you'll ruin them…"

Arthur rolled his eyes, said that they were already ruined as far as he could tell and leaned forwards to kiss him again, but Alfred stopped him gently. He had more to say before they even thought about going any farther.

"So, do you believe me now?" Alfred was disappointed by the little sigh Arthur gave before his answer. He knew that if Arthur sighed, or paused, or put a finger against his temple, he wasn't quite sure of himself, and the last thing Alfred wanted Arthur to be was unsure…right now he just wanted him to feel loved and, if at all possible, horny.

But when Arthur spoke his voice was warm. Did that mean he felt loved? "I guess it works for now, you wanker," he said. "But I might have to hit you if you don't kiss me again soon, love."

Well, he was definitely horny.

"Aha! No one can resist the-!"

"Yeah, yeah, no one can resist a hero…I've heard it before!" Arthur stood on tiptoe to get what he wanted, and Alfred was abruptly distracted and wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist, bending his neck so that Arthur wouldn't have to strain to reach his mouth anymore.

When Arthur moaned faintly against his lips and slipped a hand in his pocket Alfred decided that he had enough incentive to justify picking Arthur up bridal style. Since he never their lips part for more than a second as he maneuvered them through the narrow office doorway and down the hall, Arthur didn't complain. Of course Alfred remembered where the bedroom was (this would be the last thing he would forget), and upon reaching the closed door he shifted Arthur's weight onto one arm and kicked open the door, muffling Arthur's cry of distress for the state of his home against his shoulder.

Okay, so you can probably tell that I'm modifying a lot, but I'm in a room with children right now (pretty brave, eh?) and I can't take the time to be meticulous, so you have permission to change anything you don't like.

As Alfred lowered Arthur onto his meticulously made bed air began to become a necessity, and when they parted Arthur let his head fall back against the pillow, not expecting to hear something cold and hard crack beneath him. It took him only a moment to figure out exactly what he'd hit, and coarse Look up the definitive of the word 'coarse' then find what you really want to say and change it! shockwave of fear ran through his body. He tried to stop Alfred so that he could reach beneath him and pull out the frame to examine its condition.

"A-Alfred…" He moaned breathlessly, weakly pulling on strawberry blonde hair as Alfred nipped and sucked on his neck. "S-stop… Stop it n-now… Alfred, for Christ's bloody sake, will you please stop for just one fucking minute you bloody git!"

Alfred leaned back, a bit surprised. "What's wrong Artie?"

England pushed against his chest, telling him to lean back before scrambling to his knees on the plush mattress. He saw what he had feared.

"My frame," He lifted it carefully from the mattress. "Oh God…the glass is broken…" he said shakily, his hands trembling. Alfred pressed himself flat against Arthur's back, leaning over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. In delicate hands sat an equally delicate wooden frame with…_Alfred's_ picture beneath a fractured pane of glass. Alfred's attention was snapped away when he saw the glisten of tears on Arthur's cheeks.

"What's wrong Artie?" It wasn't like prideful Arthur to cry over something so small and easily fixed.

"M-my frame… It's broken…" answered Arthur in a quivering whisper. The frame had kept Arthur company through the long, lonesome nights he'd spent in his office. He hated to admit it, but it had been a great comfort to him. All Arthur had needed to do was look at it and it was as though Alfred was there, looping his arms around Arthur's neck as he hovered over his shoulder, asking what he doing, or telling him it was okay, he was the hero and he would protect him, or whispering sweet nothings in his ear as his lips traced ghost circles on his neck, or holding him beneath the crook of his arm in the middle of the night. Oh god…

"So? It's no big deal," The very real Alfred said, trying to grab the frame from Arthur's hands, brow knitting in confusion when Arthur's grip on the wood went deathly tight, so much so that the tips of his fingers went white. "Arthur…" Alfred touched his cheek curiously. "It's just a stupid picture frame. Dude, I'll totally get another one made for you."

"It's not just a stupid picture frame!" Arthur shouted, shaking his head furiously. Of all people, he wanted Alfred to understand, but that seemed to be an impossibility.

"Yes it is! What makes so special!"

Arthur bit his lip. "You, Alfred! You make it special! You gave me this before everything went wrong with us! Don't you see? This picture is the last one I have from before you fell out of love with me, Alfred!"

"Is that it?" Alfred grabbed Arthur's face in his hands. "Oh, Arthur, I'm right here, right now, and I love you! And correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that I'm better than some stupid picture! Or, well, I hope I am…" Alfred rubbed his thumbs across Arthur's cheekbones. "Now, give me the frame before you hurt or dehydrate yourself, or I swear I'll snap the damn thing in half."

Alfred spoke softly but firmly, and Arthur slowly handed the frame to him. Alfred got off the bed and walked to the dresser, where he sat the picture face up, deciding that he'd clean the glass up for Arthur later, because at the moment, he had more important things to do, such as proving to Arthur that he was better than any picture, because, being a totally awesome hero, he sure as hell was.

Arthur watched as Alfred sauntered from his dresser back towards the bed, thinking how sexy he really was. Bollocks, even with that bloody jacket on, he managed to just ooze sex appeal. All Arthur had as a warning was a twinkle in blue eyes before he was swept up into strong arms and thrown back (gently) against the mattress. He somehow managed to glare at Alfred even as he hovered above him, their chests nearly touching.

Arthur closed his eyes, expecting the full brunt of Alfred's mouth. His eyes flew open again when Alfred began to gently kiss his chin before slowly, _sensually_, moving up the tear that had slipped down Arthur's cheek and lapping at it gently. As Alfred reached the corner of one of his bottomless green eyes he moved to start down the other cheek and Arthur ran his fingers through the downy hair on the back of his neck.

When Alfred finally leaned back, smiling tenderly, Arthur threw his arms around his neck, pulling him closer and nuzzling against the space where his neck met his shoulder, a wordless way of telling him that he finally understood just how much Alfred truly cared. The message was heard and Alfred smiled against his cheek, burying his nose against the crown of his head.

"Alfred…" Arthur murmured.

"What is it, Artie?"

"Don't call me Artie…and…kiss me?" Arthur looked shyly into blue eyes that seemed to go on forever and ever.

"Of course, _Artie_," Alfred replied with a smile. He would have kissed Arthur even if he hadn't been asked – he was too cute to resist. Alfred leaned forward and kissed Arthur sweetly, pulling back before their lips had separated in the least. Arthur's hold on the back of his neck suddenly tightened and he pressed their faces together for a kiss that was more teeth and tongues than lips at all.

"Don't tease, you git!" he growled when they came up for air.

"Jesus H. Christ! I was gonna take this slow and sweet, but no!" It was too fun to poke fun at Arthur.

"Come on Alfred…" Arthur whined, leaning up to kiss him again. But Alfred was too fast and leaned back before he could catch him, grinning insipidly. Arthur frowned. Well, he brought this on himself. Arthur darted upwards and reached for the zipper on Alfred's jacket, pulling it down quickly and pushing his hands beneath his t-shirt. He ran his hands up and down the sculpted muscles there before stopping at already firm nipples. Grinning, he began to tease the nubs, rolling them under his fingers, tracing little circles around them. Alfred melted into his hands.

"A-Arthur…" he moaned weakly, bracing himself against the small of his back.

"I haven't had you in months. I want you now…" Arthur said in what he hoped was a seductive voice, tracing Alfred's bellybutton, trailing kisses down his neck.

"J-just more reason to make it slow. You're gonna be s-super tight and it's definitely gonna h-hurt if we don't go slow…" Alfred warned.

"I don't care. You'll stretch me and I'll be fine… I just want you."

At the husky tone in Arthur's voice, Alfred snapped. He put his hands on Arthur's chest and gently pushed him away, just enough so he could nip at his neck while he pushed him slowly onto the bed.


	5. Final Chapter

Worldaccordingtofangirls - LAST CHAPTER. *sob* But of course, there's always the epilogue. Or Epic-Logue, as we like to call it. Anyways, I get an editor's note here because I was less of an editor and more of an author on half the smut. :3 I won't lie; despite my abstinence (word choice purposeful) from writing actual fanfiction, I'll jump at any opportunity to help with the smut. *sigh* I wasn't always this way, you know?

_Rika: Its all my fault! XDAnyways, after everything smexy has come (again, word choice purposeful) and gone, it's pretty much all Rika. *tries to think of a hilarios anecdote to tell you all and draws a blank* THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATRONAGE AND KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR OUR NEXT PROJECT. Well, that seems sufficient. I'll see all of you pervs soon. *love*

Hallo, hallo! Tis your ever loving Rika-chan here! This is the last chapter of Picture Perfect, also known as A Picture and a Heart. But, I am proud to say, that much sooner, rather than later, I will have up the epic-louge! I honestly hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it. I love everyone who read it and everyone who reviewed even more! I'll definitely have more stuff coming out this summer lovely's!

I don't own Hetalia. I don't own nothing… *SADFACE* Read, review, and enjoy friends and lovers. :D

Arthur was delirious with a happiness that would have felt like being under the touch of gin had it not been so obviously clean and warm and genuine in his blood. He felt as his heart was going to burst – there he was, beneath the man he had loved and longed to be with for what had seemed to be an eternity, their legs tangled together, their breath mingling when their mouths were not drowning each other, so close already yet were veering towards being much closer.

Alfred's fingers fumbled with Arthur's tie; the bomber jacket fell to the floor while his mouth traced intricate patterns across Arthur's throat as he reached for the button on his trousers. Next went Arthur's sweater vest, (accompanied by a low chuckle from Alfred and a swat from Arthur) then Alfred's t-shirt, his jeans, then Arthur's undershirt, and because his trousers had pooled around his legs Arthur tripped onto the bed but managed to drag Alfred down with him, fingers tangling in his golden hair as they kissed again.

Alfred suddenly shifted so that all his weight was on arm and looked at Arthur, admiring his slender frame and soft white skin and the pale hair that framed those brilliant green eyes and marveling at the fact that it could really be his. Arthur squirmed beneath that unwavering blue gaze, clutching at the ends of a sweater that was no longer that there, and looked away.

He felt a familiar palm curve up his cheek and tentatively turned his face again, unable to resist covering Alfred's fingers with his own. Alfred felt an effortless smile work its way to his face as he watched a blush spread across his lover's face. Arthur would have acted on the desire that flared in his stomach had he not wanted to preserve that smile for which he had been waiting, the expression that screamed Alfred. The one he had tried to trap beneath the now broken glass of his picture frame.

Arthur had thought the picture was the one thing that could capture Alfred's smile; he was so very wrong. Nothing could. Nothing.

So instead of kissing him Arthur reached with both his hands and tangled them through his hair, bringing Alfred down slightly as he pulled himself up until their foreheads were just touching. The desire in his stomach was forgotten; Arthur was transfixed by the wondering stare returned to him. It was hypnotizing, the kind, warm blue of Alfred's eyes. So familiar, yet foreign at the same time.

Though Alfred returned the loving gaze for a while, he was never the type to forget sex completely and eventually let his arms drift from Arthur's waist around to gently squeeze his buttocks. When Arthur gasped and jumped, accidentally bumping their noses together, Alfred grinned.

"You still ready?"

Arthur wound his arms round Alfred's neck and hummed against the hollow of his shoulder. Alfred realized that the tiny gesture had him grinning and blushing like a schoolgirl, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He moved hand gently caress the small of Arthur's back the way he knew he liked while he rummaged through the nightstand beside his mattress where Arthur usually kept his lube. "Arthur, it's not…_ahh!_" Arthur had bitten sharply at the hollow of his ear, cutting his sentence short with the gasp it drew from him. "It's not here!" "Oh," Arthur's breath tickled his neck. "I…I think I threw the one in there out ages ago," A series of kisses near Alfred's collarbone. "But Francis gave me some and…" Lips pressed dangerously close to Alfred's chin. "…it should be the drawer below it the usual one."

Alfred went on a heroic journey through what was evidently Arthur's new book drawer while Arthur continued to be an absolute _tease, _god. Alfred nearly broke the spine of one of the damn books when his lips brushed just the corners of Alfred's mouth and his fingernails just barely grazed his chest; only able to refrain from snapping the thing in half because in the back of his mind he understood that that would warrant some kind of unwelcome punishment. Most likely a few swift smacks to the face, a stern scolding, and booty lock down for lord knows how long. Totally non-sexy.

"Uf…Arthur…found it…" Alfred dragged out the package of assorted lubes, unopened, and tore at the plastic wrap with his teeth. There was a fine blush across his cheeks and he looked so good sinking his teeth into the packaging that Arthur could feel himself getting impatient. And, of course, Alfred decided to take forever to go through each of the five bottles and read each one's label five times over. Finally, Arthur's patience snapped and he grabbed whatever random bottle happened to so unlucky to be in his reach.

He shoved the bottle, red so bright it was nearly pink into his face. "Just use this one, dammit!

Alfred smirked and was preparing to deal out a snappy comeback, but Arthur had already turned to put away the other bottles. He couldn't help but be somewhat annoyed with his neatness, but the feeling was stamped out by the excitement he could feel bubbling in his stomach when he read the label on the lubricant. When Arthur turned back to him, Alfred lost control of himself.

"What are you so -" Alfred's mouth clamped down on his and Arthur fell back on the pillows, throwing his arms around Alfred's neck merely for the sake of _balance _and emitting a sound that was most definitely _not _a whimper. When Alfred pulled away they were both panting and he wiped at his mouth with the back of his wrist, beaming. Arthur knew that something was amiss. It was never good when Arthur smirked at him the way he was that moment, and apparently his suspicion shone through on his face.

"Don't worry…" he breathed. "This is gonna be so totally fun! See, look!" It was Alfred's turn to thrust the bottle of lube at Arthur, who quickly realized that it was not ordinary unscented sensible lubricant. No, he'd picked the one tube that was sensitive to friction, meaning that it would heat up when two things were rubbed together.

The desire was very much present again in Arthur's stomach and he blushed. "W-wanker. Stop looking at me like that. Get on with it."

Alfred popped open the tube and began to wet his fingers, grinning all the while.

"What are you smiling about?" Arthur bit his lip, trying to disguise just how arousing it was to watch Alfred lubricate his own fingers. Alfred stopped smiling to purse his lips and whistle faintly.

"Heh…" Alfred chuckled. "It works babe."

"Y-you twat!" spat Arthur, trying not to tremble in anticipation as Alfred slowly capped the lube and put it on the nightstand.

"Oh, I'm the twat?" Alfred moved so that their thighs bumped together and Arthur shivered. Then Alfred's mouth was on his, his tongue carefully tracing his bottom lip. Arthur couldn't help but lean up into the kiss, one hand going to the back of Alfred's neck to press them closer together. He nipped at Alfred's lip and was satisfied with the resulting moan.

"Ready?" breathed Alfred against their lips. Arthur kissed him harder and Alfred began to part his thighs with his hand, slowly, much too slowly; it had been a while but not that long, and between kisses Arthur told him so.

Alfred quickly pushed one finger inside of Arthur. This was nothing compared to how it used to be, when Alfred would start him off with two fingers and work his way up to four, but even so, Arthur couldn't help but to wince. Alfred noticed and quickly withdrew his finger, at which Arthur discovered that the warmth was worth the pain (and then some!) and bit almost savagely into Alfred's shoulder.

"I don't care!" Arthur shouted at him, making it absolutely clear that he was not to stop, and with another gentle kiss Alfred was pushing the digit back into the tight ring of muscle.

When Alfred finally got around to inserting a second finger, Arthur actually rocked against him. "Ahhh…hng, Alfred, please just do it…nng…don't worry about me, love." But at the third finger his nails sunk into Alfred's shoulder blades and he felt his heels scrabbling against Alfred's hips for purchase.

"Relax, relax," Alfred's mouth was gentle against his jaw. "I love you… Artie." He was sure to make his words a full as he could to distract Arthur from the pain he was putting him in.

Arthur gasped and buried his face in Alfred's shoulder as he began to slowly thrust in and out.

"Haaah…Alfred…"

"Are you alright?" Alfred paused, and when Arthur cupped his cheeks in his hands he saw that Texas had slipped far down his nose and that Alfred was very red and very out of breath.

"More than," Arthur pressed their cheeks together. "But I'm bored with this," he murmured against Alfred's ear. "I want _you, _Alfred."

Just hearing that was almost enough to push Alfred over the edge and he tried to concentrate on leaning Arthur back against the pillows again. He prepared himself using what remained on his fingers while Arthur combed through his hair, paying special attention to Nantucket as he did so and occasionally stopping to give him quick pecks on the cheek that in their chasteness made a near comic parallel with the situation at hand.

When Alfred began Arthur had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from crying out in pain, but when Alfred kissed him, not terribly lustfully or thirstily but rather simply longingly, more of a question or a plea than a demand, and sunk in farther, Arthur felt the dull ache begin to fade to be replaced by the pure happiness at the feeling of being so close. He wanted to tell Alfred that he was worth any pain, that he loved him, that he never wanted to leave this moment, but he couldn't speak, could only gasp and whimper and scrabble against Alfred's trembling shoulders.

"A-Alfred…" he groaned.

"Y-yeah…?" Alfred's attempt at a chuckle emerged as a breathless whisper, and Arthur didn't say anything back for a long moment – there was no need. They had created an orchestra together, a symphony of shallow breathing and bedsprings and soft noises and whispered endearments, and Arthur honestly didn't think the moment could be anymore perfect and certainly wasn't about to ruin it with words.

Arthur realized he had closed his eyes and opened them to see Alfred hovering above him, his entire body moving with the slow, sensual rhythm he set with his hips. A light blush had worked its way over his cheeks and dirty blonde hair fell clung to his forehead, sticking in places and swept away in others. His eyes shone and the light was reflected in the smile, indescribably beautiful, completely genuine, and belonging solely to Arthur, something that only he could see and that only he was meant to see.

Arthur realized he was crying when the smile crumpled and Alfred pulled away, his hands flying from Arthur's buttocks to the small of his back. "Oh god, did I hurt you?" His lips pressed against Arthur's jawbone frantically. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…I'd never want to hurt you, Artie, never, we can stop now - "

"You git!" Arthur threw his arms around Alfred's neck. "It's not that…it's just that I…I'm so happy, Alfred, you have no idea…" He pulled his face back from Alfred's shoulder to gaze at him. "I just love you."

Alfred stared for a moment before fastening his mouth on Arthur's and picking up where they had left off. Between thrusts and grunts he somehow managed to tell Arthur that he loved him, too, and that he would forever. Forever, forever, forever. That he loved him like no one else in the world…

Alfred was close, so very close, but he was determined to push Arthur over the edge first. Judging by the sounds Arthur was making against his neck this wouldn't be very difficult, and as Alfred geared up for a particularly forceful thrust he sealed on hand around Arthur, who cried out at the unexpected sensation and came abruptly in Alfred's hand, his knees snapping around his back and his arms locking around his neck at the elbows as he gasped his name.

This coupled with Arthur clenching around him so suddenly was too much for Alfred, and he rode out his orgasm into Arthur fully, imagining that he was touching places within Arthur that no one else had even thought to exist, feeling as though he would shatter at the slightest touch although Arthur was still clinging with all his might to his torso.

"Oh Alfred…Alfred, I love you so…"

Alfred silenced him with a kiss. "Arthur, believe me when I say I'll never let you go again…"

When they were finished and Alfred had slipped out, Arthur grabbed his face in his hand and kissed him deeply but not searchingly.

"Alfred, love," Arthur hummed happily, running his fingers through Alfred's hair. "I believe you."

Alfred silenced him with a kiss. "Arthur, believe me when I say I'll never let you go again…"

When they were finished and Alfred had slipped out, Arthur grabbed his face in his hand and kissed him deeply but not searchingly.

"Oh, Alfred, Alfred, my love," sighed Arthur, running his fingers through Alfred's hair. "I believe you."

To Arthur's great displeasure, the kiss was broken too early as Alfred got up and walked swiftly to the bathroom to get a washcloth, with Arthur following just a step behind his lover. After they were cleaned up, a process which involved much giggling on Alfred's part and corresponding glares from Arthur, the pair headed back to Arthur's bed, hand in hand without even realizing it. Alfred jumped onto the mattress, chuckling as he bounced while Arthur pulled on his long-lost underwear.

"Stop that, you wanker!" Arthur threw a pair of stars-and-stripes boxers in his face. "You sound like a bloody two year old!" But he slid into bed next to Alfred, who had tugged his boxers on through his laughing fit, and curled up beside him, his head on his chest, gazing up at the breathtaking smile that lingered on Alfred's face.

Alfred wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulders, drawing him closer, and looked up at the ceiling, taking a moment to simply be happy that he was there with Arthur, who really did still love him. Without Alfred's realizing it, a smile, pure and genuine, began to spread across his face. Arthur stopped breathing. It had been on Alfred's face for only a moment, but that was the smile - the one from the picture. The very same.

A tear slipped suddenly down Arthur's cheek and landed on Alfred's broad chest. Bollocks, how ridiculous. He was crying for the umpteenth time that day, but he couldn't help it. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur was happy.

But Alfred didn't know that, and being the hero he was, grew rather alarmed when he felt wet on his skin and looked down, assuming that Arthur had already fallen asleep and had started to drool all over his chest and rather anticipating the relentless teasing this would merit only to discover that Arthur was very much awake, and not only that - one hand was raised to his eye, obviously wiping away a tear.

"Arthur! Are you okay!" Alfred moved so he was straddling him. "Ah, man, what did I do this time!"

Arthur put his hand up to Alfred's cheek, smiling up at him as he caressed the smooth skin. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"No…"

"You make me happy, sad, angry, crazy… complete. Your smile makes my heart beat faster and makes my world stop. It's like a picture, and, Alfred, I want to be a part of that picture forever."

"You… You mean that?"

"Of course I mean that, you git!" There was no real edge to Arthur's shout. He could see the disbelief in Alfred's eyes and though part of him wanted to melt at the sight another was slightly offended by the unconcealed doubt.

"You really still love me Artie?" Alfred couldn't help but to ask.

"Yes, absolutely. I love you with all of my heart Alfred." Arthur smiled and moved so that his head was again resting against Alfred's chest. For a moment, the room fell silent, leaving Arthur a sweet moment to enjoy the perfect unison of his and Alfred's breathing as he listened to the soft beat of Alfred's heart thrumming beneath his ear.

"So I'm better than that picture?" asked Alfred, trying the insecurity in his voice and on his face.

Arthur's eyes went wide at the question. Alfred didn't really need Arthur to tell him that he was better than a picture, did he? He wasn't that dense, was he?

Arthur leaned back to look up Alfred and could tell immediately that he was serious by how dark his usually brilliant blue eyes were as they looked shyly back at him. He wanted so badly to console him, and though his mind filled with things to say his throat closed, stealing his voice from him and rendering him unable to do anything but gape.

"Cause, you know," Alfred bit at his lower lip. "You seem to care about a lot. And I know it's quieter than me and it's probably a little smarter than me, and it doesn't do stupid stuff like I do, and- and it's not as annoying as me… but-!" Alfred had scrambled to turn his question into a joke but seemed to be losing his humor at Arthur's unwavering stare. The next thing he said emerged as if from the lips of a child. "Am I?"

Alfred inwardly begged Arthur to answer. The joking 'no' would be all he needed – he would know then that he was at least forgiven for how he hurt Arthur, that everything between them was normal again, at least enough for them to poke fun at each other.

Arthur finally found his voice again.

"Yes."

Alfred's jaw dropped open slightly. What did this mean?

"Alfred," Arthur ran his thumb across his cheek. "The only reason that picture means so much to me is because it captured your smile so bloody perfectly. But you're leagues more perfect than any picture." Arthur craned his neck and closed Alfred's still slightly parted lips with a slow, tender kiss that stole both their breaths. Arthur's arms were suddenly around his neck and in that he made no effort to conceal his vulnerability he revealed to Alfred what he had meant when he had told him 'yes'. The relationship they were starting would not be like what they had before, it _could _not, because as Arthur had said, the past cannot be forgotten…no, it wouldn't be the same at all, but rather, better…

Arthur pulled away from Alfred just enough to see the beginning of a smile blooming on his face and smiled back at him for a long moment, knowing that he had effectively gotten his point across, before he returned his head to his chest.

Alfred stared down at the top of Arthur's head as he nuzzled against heartbeat and wondered at how Arthur never ceased to shock and amaze him. He was sure that he'd never be able to thank him for that, no matter how hard he tried. So he didn't try at all, merely pulled Arthur closer to him and buried his nose in his blonde hair, loving how it smelled clean even though it was still damp with sweat.

"Hey, Arthur?"

"Hmm?" Arthur sounded as sleepy as Alfred felt, and though he hated to prolong sleep, he had one last question that couldn't wait.

"Can I have the necklace I gave you back?" Though it took a second for Arthur to realize what Alfred was referring to, when the idea had fully registered itself in his mind a smile so large that it hurt his cheeks spread across his face. He couldn't help but chuckle happily as he answered.

"It's been here waiting for you the entire time, love."

"Thanks. I love you, Arthur."

And those were the last words Arthur heard before he fell asleep, happier than he'd been in a long, long time. He was surrounded Alfred's comforting warmth, wrapped in strong arms that promised to never let him go again and a smile that promised to never fade. Arthur had everything he needed. It was another moment that he deemed to be picture perfect.


	6. Epiloge

ITS FINALLY HERE! OMG! Lolz! This is the really real end of Picture Perfect. Sorry it took soooo long! But I'd like to thank every single person who read Picture Perfect! It really means a lot to me that so many people read it and liked it. I want to point out that this really was a fic I didn't right to be good, but I wrote it for myself, and my editor gave me hell for it. But I love her bunches and I couldn't have done this without her pushing me to finish it! Thanks so much EditorJew!

Please read, review, and enjoy! And be sure to watch for more works from me and EditorJew! Thanks!

Arthur sat at his desk, bored out of his mind. He didn't have the slightest desire to the pile of paperwork on his desk, and was too distracted to force himself to. He glanced up at the calendar that hung on the wall to his left and his eyes were immediately drawn to the date circled in red and blue Sharpie several times over. He smiled faintly; it was just a few days before the fourth, and he would be leaving his home to board a plane to America in four hours. Time was moving far too slowly for his liking.

He had already packed, unpacked, and repacked several times and had even made a checklist so he could be sure he had everything. His phone sat untouched on his desk as it charged. He had no one to call. Paperwork was definitely not an option, leaving him with nothing to do but stare out the lone window in his office.

Late afternoon illuminated the little room with a golden hue. Beams of light poured through the glass, drawing his eyes to the corner of his cherry wood desk, where he kept several picture frames. Each one was elegant, intricate, and hand-carved. The wood of the first had been stained a deep black, the second delicately gilded, and the last was simple, an elegant white stone frame.

The black frame was the oldest. Alfred had given it to him for his birthday years ago and Arthur had let it unused until he found the perfect picture to put in it. It was taken at Alfred birthday two years. He was framed against the night sky, a sparkler in one hand and making the victory "V" with two of his fingers on the other hand, his beautiful smile illuminating his face with a more brilliant touch than the fireworks exploding around him could hope to offer. .

Arthur reached out ran a finger over where the original glass had cracked a year before, when he and Alfred were still separated. With a fond smile he remembered that, shortly after they had reconciled, Alfred had woken up early (scaring the holy hell out of Arthur) to get the glass replaced, bursting in on their living room carrying a little rectangle wrapped in white tissue paper in one hand and a hamburger in the other.

The gold frame was just as beautiful, and incidentally also from Alfred. It sparkled a bit in the late afternoon sun and depicted an image of himself and Alfred sitting huddled together on his old wooden porch swing as snowflakes fell in the background. Both of their cheeks were tinted a rosy red from the cold air that they'd sat in for hours and Alfred was smiling brightly at Francis, who was taking the picture.

Arthur's eyes wandered lazily to the white frame and his smile widened.. The picture showed Alfred standing in a suave black suit that fit him just right. In the background, other nations were gathered in small groups, chatting amongst each other before the World Meeting was put into order, but in Arthur's eyes they blurred together - the fact that Alfred had broken the tradition of wearing his favorite American flag tie with his suit in favor of the worn partner to Arthur's steampunk pendant made him stand out even more than usual, at least in Arthur's eyes. His mouth twitched up at the corners when he recalled that Alfred would only hold still long enough for him to snap that picture.

Arthur leaned his chin on his hands, taking a moment to admire Alfred's smile. Perhaps he wouldn't easily admit to mooning over it, but when he was alone like this, he liked to take a second to appreciate it's beauty...a beauty that, Arthur thought contentedly to himself, was unknown to anyone but him.

Alfred leaned against the doorway, watching silently as Arthur gazed at a picture of him. He had caught him doing this before, sitting in his rolling chair and smiling at the pictures...until he noticed Alfred watching and blushed and practically slammed down the frames in embarrassment. Although usually Alfred would wait for this to occur, today he felt strangely compelled to go to his side...Arthur tended to slip back into the past, and Alfred always took it upon himself to force him to resurface every now and again.

Alfred tiptoed across the floor, careful not to make a sound as he crept up behind Arthur. Without any further warning, he threw his arms around his neck, nuzzling against his skin. Arthur jumped in response, but quickly relaxed into the embrace.

As Arthur relaxed, he loosened his grip on the picture frame in his hand, giving Alfred the opportunity to slip the frame from his hands...and tear from the room..

It took Arthur all of five seconds to realize what had just happened and take off after him, stumbling over the leg of his chair on the way. He flew from the room and down the stairs, determined to get the frame back and give Alfred a good lashing after words.

Arthur turned into the kitchen to find Alfred standing there innocently, (with his butt pressed against his table, Arthur noted with an irritated eye twitch as he skidded to a stop) the frame clasped between his hands. Francis was busy cooking something on his stove that, Arthur noted with much aggravation, smelt delicious.

"Alfred...give. It. Back. Now," Arthur demanded, his voice deadly.

"Dude, chillax. You can have it." Alfred threw his hands up and moved aside in defeat. Arthur gave an angry huff and snatched the frame from him, bending down to inspect it. Almost immediately he noticed that the carvings on the wood were different from those on the old frame; he leaned closer, squinting, and in the upper left corner spotted a dull sliver heart. Of course he recognized it immediately.

"Alfred… Is this your locket? Oh, Alfred the frame is beautiful… But I can't accept it…" Arthur fumbled over his words as he tried to find the best way to give back the beautiful frame. He was already attached to it, but as long as the heart was on it, he couldn't accept it. "B-Besides! It's your birthday, not mine, you gi-!"

"Um, dude, just turn around,." interrupted Alfred, calling Arthur's attention away from the frame despite how pleased he was with Arthur's already-evident attachment to were more important matters to be dealt with at the moment.

Arthur turned at the sound of Alfred's voice and his jaw hit the floor when he saw that Alfred was down on one knee.

"A-Alfred… What are you d-doing?" Arthur cursed his tongue for stuttering.

"Well, Arthur..." Alfred glanced down sheepishly. "I guess I've always tried to be everybody's hero, y'now, 'cause I'm so awesome and stuff and all..." He was rambling a bit and seemed to realized this. "B-but anyways, Artie, I wanna be your hero forever. T-that is, assuming you'd let me. Um yeah. So...will you? Let me, that is. And by let me I mean marry me. Because that's forever, at least by the Disney standard and all..."

Arthur allowed Alfred to babble himself to silence as he tried to process what had just occurred. When he finally gathered his wits enough to move, he dropped onto his knees and threw his arms around Alfred's neck, stopping a somewhat-incoherent tangent about Hollywood's perception of romance.

"Of course I'll marry you, you insufferable tosser…" Arthur whispered into Alfred's ear and wondered if there was anything else he could say to express himself properly.

"Thank you," said Alfred happily, "I love you."

Ah. Well that, of course. Arthur whispered the same as he heard the sound of a camera shutter and turned to see Francis grinning (not leering, really, genuinely grinning!) down at them, camera in hand.

"Well, mon ami, I must say I am glad that you have finally found l'amour," Ah, the leer was back. Arthur found that strangely comforting. "I was beginning to think it would never happen..."

"Yes yes, very good, Francis," Arthur couldn't help but smile as he pulled away from Alfred and stood up again. "When will lunch be done?"

"Hey!" Alfred grabbed onto his waist to stop him. "Aren't you forgetting something!"

Arthur turned again, "Am I, love?" as Alfred slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled a small, velvet box.

"The ring, dude. The ring." Alfred rolled his eyes as he opened the box, showing the small, platinum band to Arthur.

"Oh…!" Arthur couldn't stop himself from blushing; he tried to ignore Francis' snort.

Alfred slipped the ring onto his finger and Arthur lifted his hand to his face to examine it. It was a simple platinum band, that, upon closer expectation, had tiny, delicate gears engraved in the metal. It was absolutely perfect.

Now there really were no more words to say, and so Arthur didn't try, merely leaned up and caught Alfred's mouth against his - the best mode of communication, all things considered.

Francis clapped to break them apart. "Bien, bien, mes lovebirds! We have lunch to eat and food to cook! You can kiss all you want at your engagement party later."

Arthur blinked at him. "What engagement party?"

"Why, the one we're throwing here tonight."

Alfred began to edge towards the door.

"What?" Arthur ventured again.

"That's why I've been cleaning and cooking all day, mon ami!"

After a moment of considering being angry, Arthur shook his head tiredly. "Whatever. I'm too happy to be mad at you two wankers." He turned towards the door, and as he slipped into the hall he glanced over his shoulder at Francis. Now it was his turn to leer.. "Well, I guess, seeing as I didn't plan the party, I guess you'll be fine finishing up here so Alfred and I can have a little… alone time… thanks!"

As he climbed the stairs Arthur made a mental note to get that picture out of Francis' camera; it would be perfect, he considered, in his new frame. However, that was more later - at the moment, he had much more important pieces of ass...er...matters to attend to.


End file.
